The Caped Crusader
by S.T. Lawrence
Summary: Two months after the events of TDK; Batman struggles with being Gotham's most wanted as he continues his war against crime and the mob. But new enemies threaten to end his hope of ridding itself of the underworld. NEW CHAPTER UP....a rival appears!
1. Chapter 1

The Caped Crusader

Author' Note: I do not own any characters in the Batman world (DC and Bob Kane do) nor do I own any of the characters or settings of the Batman franchise (Warner Brothers and Christopher Nolan have that distinction)

* * *

"Let's go, give your money pops, I ain't got all night here!" shouted the young punk with the gun.

The old man frantically searched his pockets for his wallet, adrenaline coursing through his body. His hands shook violently as he pulled out the wallet.

"C'mon man!" the punk shouted again and pistol whipped the old man on the side of his head, nearly knocking him out. The wallet clattered to the ground and quickly picked through. Several credit cards went flying behind him, and two pictures of his family fluttered to the ground, causing the old man to moan and mumble something. "What's that pops?" the punk asked.

"The…..the Batman…will…will get you," he sputtered.

The adolescent laughed hysterically. "The Batman? Ha! Don't you watch TV gramps?! The Batman is a murderer, and the fuzz are after him. Shit, he probably got caught already…probably locked his ass up in a room at Arkham," he finished and kicked the old man in the stomach. "The Bat! Nobody even seen the guy in like two months—he's gone old man. Nobody comin' to help your wrinkly ass tonight!"

"Guess again," a voice growled in the night.

The punk didn't look up for a second, hoping he was hearing something. Quickly two gloved hands shot out of the darkness and gripped him by the shoulders, pulling him back. At once he was lifted and launched into the side of a building, slamming his shoulder into it and breaking a rib. The mugger crumpled to the ground and struggled to get up, looking around for his gun. A black boot shoved him back down and the figure before him bent to get a good look.

There was no mistaking who it was. "You're a criminal like me!" the punk shouted with fear in his voice.

Batman grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close. "I'm _nothing_ like you. You're the trash this city has a problem getting rid of. I'm still cleaning up." Quickly he swung around the boy and flexcuffed him to a dumpster.

The old man moaned to get Batman's attention. Quickly the vigilante checked him over for serious injuries and collected the items of his wallet for him. As he helped him stand, the elderly victim clapped Batman on the shoulder. "I knew you were still out there. Thank you."

Batman took a few steps back and fired his grapping hook into the sky, latching on to a flagpole on the roof of one of the apartment buildings. Looking back at the old man he nodded and softened his voice a little. "You don't have to thank me," he said and launched himself into the sky. He smiled a he watched the Dark Knight swoop away into the night, hoping nobody else saw him.

Unfortunately, three different people did see him zip past their windows and called the police.

_All units be advised: Suspect known as the Batman has been sighted in the vicinity of Fifth Street and Ashing Drive heading north out of West Harlow—The Batman is considered armed and extremely dangerous, proceed with caution_, cackled the police radio.

Two uniformed officers patrolling the Stokely rail station raced down from the platform to their patrol car and lurched onto 3rd Street, headed west, and quickly raced up 7th Street, lights and sirens screaming into the night.

An air unit patrolling near the Narrows banked hard to the left and headed towards West Harlow, its spotlight beam darting across the streets to catch a glimpse of the Bat. Three more units responded to the call and began converging in the area they thought the vigilante may be.

Within two minutes six different uniformed cars, two undercovers, and a helicopter had converged on to West Harlow. Others were already forming a perimeter around the neighborhood. The Batman wasn't getting away this time.

Batman had hidden the Batpod near the corner of 9th Street and Fourth Avenue, but getting there was going to be an issue. He crossed the roof of an apartment building at Hatters and 8th Street, and stared east at Wayne Tower as it loomed in the near distance. Looking back he could hear the Gotham PD cars coming closer, and he quickly transmitted a call to Alfred who was waiting back at the bunker.

"Anything from Gordon?"

Alfred checked the special device they created for police Commissioner James Gordon to contact them. "Nothing, sir. Quite quiet."

Batman cursed under his breath. "Listen closely to the scanners, I'm going to need some help navigating around the perimeter they're setting up."

"As it sounds right now, Master Wayne, it seems all of West Harlow is being cordoned off. If you hurry you could split their perimeter before it's settled up. Taking the highway to the Exchange Bridge should do it. They have an air unit on its way too, sir," Alfred responded with his crisp British accent.

On cue the helicopter appeared overhead and its light continued to search for him. Turning quickly he hid behind the roof access door as the search beam crossed in front of him. Sticking to the shadows he fired his gauss gun at the Gotham rail tracks and swung across two blocks, closing to less than a block away from the Batpod.

That's when the beam caught him. The helicopter pilot didn't hesitate to call it in. _Dispatch—dispatch, this is Air Three. Suspect located at the corner of Fourth Avenue and 8th Street. Repeat, we have the Batman located at Fourth and 8th! All units respond!_

The report was quickly relayed to the rest of the units of GPD, and four broke the perimeter to move in.

"Better move quick, sir. They have you spotted," Alfred radioed.

The spotlight bathed Batman in white and he swooped down next to the Batpod, hopped into the seat, and fired it up. A split second later the two-wheeled beast tore into the night with the police helicopter following close behind. _Air Three in pursuit of suspect now on motorcycle-type vehicle heading northbound, repeat, northbound on 9th looks like he's going towards the highway!_

Two GPD marked units closed right on the Batpod as it zipped past them, ripping off their side view mirrors. Batman leaned to the right and merged on to the highway as the two cars spun into 360 degree turns and headed after him.

The engine roared inside the wheels of the Batpod as it zipped through traffic, the white spotlight still sticking to the vehicle as it continued north towards the Exchange Bridge.

Three units jumped on to the Eleventh Avenue entrance as the Batpod flew past them. Sirens wailed, piercing the night air as the Batpod continued to evade Gotham police who were hot on his trail.

He leaned to the right on to the shoulder and had a clear shot of the Exchange Bridge over the Gotham river and opened up the engine to full throttle. A GPD unit was stopped ahead and spike strips used to slow down a vehicle was being laid out. Batman fired two cannon shots at the strip and blasted it out of the way as the GPD officer leapt out of the way.

Two more GPD cars crossed in front of him to block the road. Their officers took up positions behind their front doors and took aim. Batman fired two short bursts of gun fire at their hoods, spooking the officers to take cover on the shoulders of the highway. Once they were clear and not in any immediate danger, he unloaded with cannon fire, blasting the GPD cars out of the way. The engine roared as the officers heard him go by.

The Batpod hit full speed as the GPD cars began to lose sight of him. The air unit, however, still had him in view and continued to radio in his location.

Gotham Arena began to appear on the horizon, getting bigger and bigger as he closed on it. The huge Jumbotron screen advertising the Arena's events flashed bright, announcing that the Haley Circus was in town. Quickly another advertisement flashed on the board, with the main attraction of the circus, the Flying Graysons. Over two miles ahead, a 18-wheeler lumbered on, unaware to the police chase behind him. Batman flipped a switch and punched a black button on the right handlebar, activating the nitrous oxide tanks that boosted the Batpod to a speed even the air unit had trouble keeping up with.

Batman weaved in and out of a few other cars, racing to catch up to the truck. He only had one shot or else he'd be spending the rest of the night racing around Gotham City evading the police without any help from Gordon.

_Air Three still in pursuit! Suspect has increased speed well over 120 miles per hour, and we're having an issue keeping up. All units converge on the Gotham Arena exit! _came the call from the police helicopter. The light trailed the Batpod a few yards as the overpass exit for the Arena came up. Police units stopped on the overpass leaned over the protective railing and began opening fire on the Batpod as the 18-wheeler rumbled below. Batman pushed his body down, stretching the Batpod out and lowering himself closer to the ground. Throwing his right shoulder into it and putting the cycle on the sides of the two big 20-inch tires he slid underneath the trailer and stayed low as he and the truck cleared the pass.

Air Three's spotlight frantically searched around the highway looking for any sign of the Batman.

_ This is Air Three. We lost him, repeat, we lost him._

He kept the Batpod underneath the trailer for another few miles until the wail of the sirens faded in the distance. The helicopter had given up its search and once again Gotham police had missed their chance to catch the cop killer vigilante. He split away from the truck, surprising the driver as the black motorcycle sped past him and doubled back, heading east towards the Gotham Docklands, where his makeshift bunker sat.

The moon tucked away behind some clouds, reducing visibility in the night, and Batman quietly slowed the Batpod to a idle into the Wayne Enterprises salvage yard and into the container box that provided access into the bunker. Batman pulled the Batpod off the elevator platform and shut it down, sliding off the cycle.

"I take it they lost you, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he greeted the Dark Knight.

Batman pulled off his cowl and placed it on the desk of the computers in front of him, slumping into the chair. "What was your first clue?" he replied as he began pulling off the Batsuit. It was then that he noticed he had been shot, nicked behind his left shoulder.

"I say Master Wayne, if you're going to keep doing this, you may want to consider using the old Batsuit until the authorities clear you of being a murdering cop killer."

"I lose mobility and flexibility, Alfred," responded Bruce Wayne.

"Well I know that sir, but the police are going to take shots at you until they have you dead or in their custody. The old suit was a little more bullet resistant than this one," the butler said as he began to clean and dress Bruce's wound.

"Perhaps Mr. Fox can work on some sort of hybrid suit?"

Bruce pondered the thought, then began typing on the computer the events of the night.

Alfred finished putting the stitches on Bruce and wiped him one last time with peroxide and rubbing alcohol, then helped him put on a fresh shirt. "Anything else exciting happen tonight, sir?"

"They're getting bolder Alfred. They think now that Gotham PD has me as their number one most wanted, they can run wild. Laying low these last two months was not the best move," Bruce resigned with a huff.

Alfred shook his head as he placed the surgical instruments in their stainless steel container. "The Joker did a number on Gotham, sir, including breaking Mr. Dent. The people of this city are still trying to get used to you. Not everyone believes you killed those people, sir. Some cops know you stopped the Joker. The rumors are enough to make GPD's hunt for you problematic. Let's not forget Commissioner Gordon has helped you numerous times as of late. This is what you must endure to save Gotham, Master Wayne. To be their hero later, you'll need to be their enemy now."

"The mob is broken now, Alfred. And I cannot be out there long enough to make sure someone doesn't take command of them again. Not as Batman. Not when Gordon has to let GPD hunt for me."

Alfred leaned in close. "Then perhaps, sir, you shouldn't go out there as Batman. When you started this, you stated that you wanted to strike fear and terror into the hearts of the criminal underworld that infects Gotham. And I supported you sir, when you chose the bat as your avatar. But maybe the bat as served its purpose for now. Maybe you can go out there as another persona, one that isn't supposed to scare but to work from the inside."

"Inside?" Bruce asked quizzically.

"Become one of them, sir. Infiltrate the remnants of the mob, whatever is left of the Maroni/Falcone Family. You wouldn't need to be Batman all the time and be in position to finish off the major criminal elements of the city. Then, when the time is right, you make Batman known again as the one who got rid of those men."

"You're telling me to become a mobster?"

Alfred chuckled. "In a way, yes sir. But you still have to be Bruce Wayne, too. So I wouldn't suggest making this a full time thing."

"I think people may recognize me without the cowl, don't you?"

Alfred smiled and walked away from Bruce, saying over his shoulder, "I think you're smart enough to change your appearance, Master Bruce. You do with your voice when you put on the suit."

The following morning Alfred returned to the bunker to find Bruce asleep on a cot with drawings strewn about the floor near the computer. Four monitors had different disguises and mockups for the new persona he had mentioned to Wayne the night before. None looked very convincing.

He shook Bruce awake and pointed out the breakfast he had prepared for him. Wayne shook his head to wake up a little more, quickly downed his orange juice, and began doing push-ups, a daily routine.

Alfred looked at the drawings and screens and squinted. "I certainly hope you aren't going to use these, sir."

Bruce finished a set of 50 push-ups and climbed to his feet. "Why not?"

"Well, these are rather obvious, don't you think?"

Bruce pointed to one on the top right screen. "He works."

The disguise was a audacious zoot suit, black with thick white pinstripes and saddle shoes. The name "Dapper Vinny" was listed underneath it. "When's the last time you saw a mobster in Gotham wear something like that?"

Wayne nearly inhaled his toast, and mumbled between bites "Maroni's men wore suits like that."

Alfred dropped his head. "Perhaps we need to get you a new cowl sir. Maroni's men certainly did not wear those hideous pieces of clothing. I don't think a criminal in Gotham will take you seriously with the name 'Dapper Vinny,' sir."

Wayne waved him off. "Well I'll work on it. I need to see Gordon tonight, so Batman will live for another day."

The butler picked up an envelope and held it up to gain Bruce's attention. "Actually sir, you have something else you have to attend to tonight. As Bruce Wayne."

Bruce got up and walked towards Alfred. "What are you talking about?" he said and snatched the envelope out of his hand.

"A new club is opening up downtown. An Englishman owns it, and its gathering a lot of star power for its first night. It is the kind of thing Bruce Wayne would be at. The kind of thing Bruce Wayne should be at, sir."

Wayne read the invitation. Two VIP tickets fell out of the envelope, with Alfred picked up as Bruce continued reading. "The Iceberg Lounge, huh? I guess I'll be going out tonight. Have a suit ready for me at the penthouse. And I'll want three girls tonight—make sure Haley is one of them."

"Of course sir," Alfred replied and began to leave.

"Alfred," Bruce called out quickly, lifting the invite up. "You ever heard of this owner?"

"No sir. England is quite a large country, sir."

Wayne smirked and put the invitation down on the desk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Coleman Reese rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed, throwing open the curtains to his condo overlooking Harlow Park. His BlackBerry sat on his nightstand, the little red message light blinking for him to check his messages. After clearing several junk e-mail items, he saw two voice mails were waiting to be checked. Slipping his Bluetooth headset on, he called his inbox and let the messages play. The first from his mother calling to see if he was coming for dinner in a week. Reese flipped through several suits in his closet before deciding on an ash gray Ralph Lauren. He pulled a crisp white shirt out as his mother droned on in his ear about the women in her condo association, and laid both the suit and the shirt out on his bed. Selecting a red power tie, he prepared to take a shower as the second voicemail started.

"Mr. Reese, this is Commissioner Gordon. I would appreciate it if you called me back as soon as you can, as there are some things we need to discuss. If I do not hear from you by the afternoon, I will visit Wayne Enterprises," said the gruff voice on the voicemail and listed a number he could be contacted at.

Reese paused in the middle of his bedroom. Why does Gordon want to talk to me now?

It had been months since the Joker had tried to have him killed, to prevent him from revealing the identity of the Batman. The people deserved to know who was causing the problems the Joker was using for an excuse. It seemed like a good idea then, a way to finally get the publicity and respect he, Coleman Reese, deserved.

Even Lucius Fox's advice had not hit home. Wayne could threaten him, but he wouldn't kill him, and that meant that he always had the ability to blackmail Bruce Wayne until he gave up the Batman mantle.

Then things changed, quickly. With the Joker's ultimatum laid out on the Gotham News Network, Reese was taken into police protection. Only the police were prepared to kill him too. It was Wayne who, out of nowhere, got in-between a huge duel-wheeled pickup truck and his escort car with his own Lamborgini and took the impact to protect him. Perhaps revealing who Batman was may not have been the smartest idea after all.

But then came the report after the Joker's capture: Batman had murdered five people, including two cops. He had attacked a SWAT team. Gotham City police were no longer content in letting the Batman remain in Gotham. He had to be captured. Just as quickly, Coleman Reese headed off to the Bahamas for a month long vacation. When he came back to Gotham, the Batman was missing and GPD had yet to bother him.

Until today.

Coleman quickly grabbed his flat screen television remote and turned on Gotham News Network. There, staring back at him, was a picture of the motorcycle thing the Batman was last seen riding. Only this time the headline at the bottom screamed: _THE RETURN OF THE BATMAN: STILL A MURDERER?_

Gordon's call became all too clear now.

Reese quickly entered his office at Wayne Enterprises and closed the door behind him. Something uncharacteristic of him, as Coleman wanted everyone to know what he was working on and how hard. It fed his ego for those in the office to know how smart and good he was at his job, and in general.

He paced nervously for a few minutes and then dialed the number Gordon left him, putting the call into this Bluetooth so he could keep pacing off the nerves. Two rings later he heard the familiar voice of the commissioner. "Commissioner Gordon."

"Commissioner, this is Coleman Reese, how are you?"

"I'm find Mr. Reese, thank you. And yourself?"

Reese rubbed his hands together, shaking a little. "I'm…I'm ok. Little puzzled as to why you called me."

Gordon hesitated and cleared his voice. "Have you seen this morning's newspaper or news?"

Coleman swallowed and sweat started to form over his brow. "About the Batman?"

"Yes, Mr. Reese. We need to capture the Batman at all costs," he heard Gordon say. The commissioner's voice had pulled away from the phone and risen considerably, as if he wanted others around him to hear it.

"Well I believe I told you at the time of the crash that I did not have the information available to me anymore," Reese said quickly.

Gordon barely acknowledged him. "Mr. Reese, I'm going to need you to come down for questioning."

Reese was sweating profusely now. "Is—is that necessary commissioner?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it is. When do you think you can come in?"

"Tomorrow afternoon I suppose."

Gordon didn't sound like he was listening. "I'm sorry, did you say tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Reese?"

"Ye—Yes I did."

"Ok, head down to police headquarters and ask for me. I'll come get you myself, ok Mr. Reese?" Gordon said quickly.

"Ok thank you," Reese meakly replied. Gordon hung up without saying anything else.

Coleman tapped the Bluetooth headset and slumped into his chair, loosening his tie. What a way to start a Friday.

Several hours later Coleman's secretary popped into his office and laid his mail down on the side of his desk, putting it in his sorting tray for him to work on. She could have done it herself, but Coleman needed the level of control it gave him and would not let anyone else separate his things.

After flipping through a few unimportant letters, he came across one he did not expect at all. An invitation to the most anticipated club opening of the year: the Iceberg Lounge in downtown Gotham. Two VIP tickets tumbled out, addressed specifically to him. A small note was attached stating simply: _Can't wait to meet you! – O.C._ Reese set the tickets aside and relaxed into his chair for a second. Plans raced through his head as he weighed his options and concerns with meeting Gordon. Only one idea floated above all the others, and he quickly set about putting that plan into motion.

* * *

As the night fell, Bruce itched to see Gordon, but with the manhunt for Batman now having a renewed vigor, he would need to keep up the charade of being Bruce Wayne for this night. Alfred had laid out his suit for the night: a stunning charcoal Armani with a crisp white Egyptian cotton French cuff shirt. He would not be needing a tie tonight, as this was not a charity function or a ball, but the opening of a nightclub. Dressing quickly, Bruce splashed some ridiculously expensive cologne on his neck and rang for Alfred.

The butler entered promptly and looked his master up and down. "If GQ could see you now, sir."

Bruce shot him a look. "Are the women ready?"

"Oh indeed, Master Bruce. Tonight you'll be joined with Misses April, May, and June sir. Which, coincidentally enough, happens to also be their names."

"What about Haley?"

"Unfortunately Miss Haley is a bit under the weather tonight sir. She sends her personal apologies."

_Damn_, Bruce thought. She was always good to use for gathering information. The girl could get anyone talking and had an uncanny ability to retain the things she heard. Maybe April, May, and June could fill in that role.

"When do we leave?"

"In another hour sir, this way you're fashionably late."

* * *

Coleman Reese had one suit laid out as he paced his apartment in his boxers. His plan was mildly in motion, though he hadn't fully committed to it just yet. No matter what he tried, it was clear what he had to do.

Hurriedly he put the suit on and headed out the door to hail a cab.

The cab pulled up a block from the Iceberg Lounge in downtown Gotham, not because Coleman asked the driver to, but because the road was jammed with limousines and huge crowds of people. Reese paid the cabbie and stepped out onto the street, staring at the throng of people he was heading into. Klieg lights shown down brightly on the canopy covering the red carpet leading into the city's newest nightclub, and flashbulbs from the local paparazzi blasted away at all the A-list guests entering. Two clusters of small spotlights flanked the canopy on either side and shot their beams straight into the night sky. The air had a twinge of humidity but a nice breeze would blow through enough that the night would be perfect on top of the roof of the Iceberg Lounge.

Coleman had his invitation out in his hand and he pushed through the crowd and stumbled on to the velvet red carpet. He fixed his suit jacket and strode up to the entrance where an incredibly large man who barely fit in his suit put his hand out pushed Reese back. "Where you going?"

Reese flashed the invitation. "I was invited, so let me in big guy. I'm Coleman Reese."

The bouncer glared at the invitation, then whispered into a wrist microphone. He pressed the plastic earpiece in his right ear closer to his head and nodded, handing back the invitation. "My apologies Mr. Reese. Please go inside. Mr. Oz will find you shortly."

Reese nodded, still confused about this whole thing but happy to have his ego stroked so much at such a huge event.

As Coleman made his way inside a gorgeous all black Maybach Excelero pulled up faster than the other cars that had made their way downtown. Screeching to a halt, the $8 million, V-12 twin turbo luxury sports car roared once more as her driver gunned the engine a few times, then let the engine grumble into idle. The driver's side door opened fast and Bruce Wayne popped out, all smiles with his arms out for everyone to see and greet him. Camera flashbulbs exploded more than ever before as they snapped pictures of the billionaire playboy. Three women climbed out of the car, leaving more of the gawkers wondering how they fit in the two seat sports car in the first place.

Gotham Cable News personality Mike Engel approached Bruce as he walked up the carpet. "Bruce Wayne, its Mike Engel from _Gotham Tonight_…can we get a word?"

Bruce eyed the man quickly. Wayne recognized him from the night he fought the Joker in the building overlooking the harbor. He had been kidnapped, Bruce remembered, tortured and forced to deliver the ultimatum to the city from the Joker. Two seconds on camera wouldn't hurt. "Yeah, sure Mike, no problem. Whats up?" he replied, looking around and smiling for all of the paparazzi cameras. _That's it, get a good look at me. When the Batman shows up, you'll have seen me here first. Just keep thinking I'm some idiot playboy._

"Bruce, who did you bring with you tonight?"

Wayne wrapped his arm around the three stunning supermodels. "This is April, May, and June. Some friends, Mike, some friends," he replied with a swarmy wink.

Engel gave him a fake TV personality laugh. "Engel gave him a fake TV personality laugh. "Bruce, what do you think about the new district attorney, Jack Wilson, who replaced Harvey Dent?"

Wayne nearly flinched at the question, but caught himself quick. "Oh Mike, I don't pay attention that. As long as Gotham keeps making a home for Wayne Enterprises, that's all I'm worried about," he said smiling bigger than he had all night. "I'm gonna head inside, check this place out."

Mike smiled back and thanked him, moving on to the next celebrity. Wayne smiled at the bouncers who didn't even bother asking if they should let him in, and the foursome of billionaire and models entered the nightclub.

House music thumped from speakers all around the dance floor, and the bar looked like it was carved from neon plastic ice. Women in scantily clad two piece uniforms, hemmed in faux white fur and furry boots moved around the club delivering drinks and stopping to dance with patrons. Wayne took all of it in. He quickly located three emergency exits and noticed pathways to the back of the bar and what could be a kitchen. All of this was being stored away in case he had to make a fast exit—or, in the future, a quiet entrance—out of the Lounge.

A woman in a skin tight black button down shirt and black stretch pants sauntered up to Bruce and the three models. "Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce was nodding and smiling to everyone who noticed him and shouted his name, then focused on the woman in front of him. "Yes, that's me."

"Mr. Oz has a spot set aside for you in our VIP area upstairs. He asked me to show you the way there."

Wayne nodded and pulled the girls close so he could talk to them. "Okay ladies, you know what you have to do. I want you to follow me up to the VIP room then get out on the dance floor, learn everything you can. Come find me in an hour."

May and June winked and kissed Bruce on the cheek. April leaned in closer. "Anyone in particular you want me to talk to, Bruce?"

Wayne placed his hand on the small of April's back, touching her bare skin just above the point where he dress began. "As a matter of fact, you stay with me. I got an idea, may need you around."

April nodded a cute snap nod and they followed the black clad woman up to the VIP lounge. Once she directed them to the area, May and June hugged Bruce then hooked their arms between each other and headed to the dance floor giggling away. April and Bruce plopped down on the sofa and were immediately greeted by a server. He was wearing a black suit with a powder blue shirt, white bowtie, and white gloves—clearly sticking with the whole "ice" motif. "Anything to start with, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce scrunched his nose. "Nah, I'll be ok. April?"

"I'll take a Bahama Breeze!" she chirped.

The server nodded. "Mr. Wayne, I have been instructed to bring over a bottle of our finest champagne, and will return with that and your date's drink in just a moment."

Wayne lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise and smiled. Lights swirled around the club, making things a little harder for Bruce to take in. Scaffoldings lined the top of the club, changing the dynamic of the building, but giving Bruce a new tactical advantage if he needed to come back. For some reason, he had a feeling he would be coming to the Iceberg Lounge in the future.

The server appeared quickly with April's drink, and then laid out a $600 bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. "Would you be needing anything else, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce waved off the server with a $100 bill and began to playfully flirt with April for everyone to see. As soon as the server was gone, Bruce leaned close to the model. "I want you to see what is in the back of this club. Use the server," he whispered and kissed behind her ear.

The gorgeous woman stood, straightened her dress, and trotted to catch up to the server.

Wayne left the sofa and leaned over the railing, staring at the crowd below. He noticed familiar faces, including Coleman Reese who was being lead to an area beneath the platform he was standing on. _What in the Hell is Reese doing here?_ Bruce quickly turned to catch up to Coleman, and was met by two large security guards dressed identically to the bouncer outside. He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Did I do something wrong, boys?"

The guard to his right shifted and a short, squat man in a tuxedo shuffled forward. Bruce noticed his gait was more of a waddle, as if the man had a hip or leg problem. He couldn't have been taller than five foot, and must have weighed over 200 pounds. The tux was straining on the man. Wayne quickly noticed the cane he used to walk, but what was most pronounced was his long, hook nose and spectacles that sat atop them. His jet black hair was slicked back and he had a thin cigar out of the corner of his mouth.

"Mr. Wayne?" the man said with a cackling sort of voice. And distinctly British.

Bruce cocked his head. "Yep, and you are?"

The short man stuck his hand out for a handshake. "I own the Iceberg Lounge. I've been looking forward to meet you!"

Wayne took his hand, which the little man shook vigorously. "Mr. Oz, I take it?"

The man released his hand and pulled the cigarillo from his mount, leaving it in-between the fingers of his left hand. "That's what my friends call me, and I hope you will too. Everyone else calls me Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot."


End file.
